


Loose Ends

by DebetEsse



Category: The Dresden Files (TV)
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-18
Updated: 2007-12-18
Packaged: 2018-01-25 01:14:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1623764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebetEsse/pseuds/DebetEsse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pre-series. Gen. Harry in transition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loose Ends

**Author's Note:**

> Many, many thanks to serasempere for the beta.
> 
> Written for Cyloran

 

 

Harry Dresden stormed into his room at the Morningway house.

"Harry? What happened?" the voice from the skull was tentative.

"I'm on probation. Permanently. One wrong move, and-"

"Oh, dear," Bob appeared in the middle of the room, stepping back to give Harry space to fling the few things he had unpacked the day he had arrived in Chicago back into his bag.

"How could they not know? They're supposed to be the ones with their shit together. How could they have no idea what kind of man he was?"

"Spoken like a true American. The High Council is made up of the most powerful magic-users. Power to the powerful."

"Yeah, well, never gonna be me," Harry muttered.

"No, it would seem not."

Bob watched as Harry finished stuffing the bag and struggled with the zipper.

"And where are you going?"

"Away. Anywhere but here."

"And what are you going to do?"

"Get a job, I guess. I don't know. Maybe I'll be a magician."

"Harry-" Bob started, the warning clear in his voice.

"I know how. Dad taught me some, and I can learn..."

"Harry, you're a wizard. You can't-"

"I know, Bob. Fat lot of good it's done me, but I know. Right now, all I really want to do is get out of here and get drunk." He grabbed the bag and the skull and strode out of the room. Bob followed.

"There is a wine cellar and-"

"I am not drinking any Morningway booze."

"You could at least-"

"Bob," Harry stopped and turned and faced the spirit, "you can either shut up or I can leave you here."

"As you wish," Bob said, and disappeared.

%%%%%

Harry sat on the floor of the motel room he'd found, the remnants of the bottle he'd acquired from next door in his right hand, talking to the skull in his left. It was like some high-concept production of Hamlet.

"You think they'd do that to me?" Harry asked, "turn me into a skull?"

"I shouldn't think so. The High Council seems to be of the opinion that the punishment should fit the crime."

"What crime did you," Harry searched for the word, or a word, or the power of telepathy, "fit?"

"I lost my heart and lost my head. But living forever, even without the ability to affect," Bob waved his hand vaguely, "is hardly a poetic punishment for-"

"Aw, come on, we can be skull buddies! Sit on a shelf together and annoy the shit out of whatever blowhard wizard inherits us."

"And then be sent back into our skulls to contemplate our brain cavities for the next 6 months. Not everyone is like you, Harry. I've spent most of my existence sitting quietly on bookshelves."

"That sucks."

"Yes."

"No wonder you're cranky."

"Indeed."

"Let's not do that, then."

"No."

Harry's head began to fall sideways against the bed, and he dropped the skull onto the floor.

"Harry, if you're going to fall asleep, you really should lie down."

"Hmm"

"Harry"

"Yeah, I'm just gonna..." he knocked the bottle over, "damn."

"Don't worry about it."

"Ok. G'night, Bob."

"I sincerely hope so, but I rather doubt it."_

Two hours later, Harry was resting his head against the toilet seat and groaning.

"You should drink some water," Bob advised.

"I'm not moving, Bob. If the High Council came and told me to stand up, I'd tell them to go fuck themselves. And could you keep it down?"

Bob rolled his eyes. "You wouldn't do that anyway?" he whispered.

"Probably"

They sat in silence for a moment

"You really should drink some--"

"I think I'm gonna go back to sleep."

"Good. On the way, you can stop at the sink and-"

"I mean here."

"Isn't it a little," Bob searched for a convincing argument, "bright?"

Harry closed his eyes tight, and, a moment later, the bathroom light bulb crackled and went out, along with several of the lights in the other room. Harry threw up again.

"Very effective."

"Who says magic isn't good for anything?" Harry said as he flushed the toilet.

%%%%%

The next morning, Harry woke to the sound of knocking.

"Who's there?" he asked from the bathroom floor. He started to get up and immediately regretted it.

"It's not anyone from the hotel. She smells of magic," Bob reported.

"Great," Harry said and stumbled to the door. Pulling it open, he blinked into the sunlight.

"Good morning, Mr. Dresden. I'm Melissa Riley, and I have some paperwork to go over with you."

Harry blinked at her. "Excuse me?" he said, eventually.

"I'm here as a representative of the High Council," she said in a voice she probably reserved for small children, trolls, and wizards with hangovers.

"And you have," Harry blinked," paperwork?"

"Relating to your situation and to the disposal of your uncle's effects. If I may come in?"

He stood aside and let her pass.

She sat down at the table and began unpacking her briefcase. Harry closed the door and followed her, cringing when his eyes fell on the spilled bottle from the night before.

"I've seen much worse," she commented, not looking up, "though I'm a bit surprised to find you here."

"Too classy?" Harry asked as he let the other chair upset gravity's victory over his legs.

"Mr. Dresden, as the documents we're about to go over state repeatedly, you are the heir to the Morningway estate. With those resources at your disposal-"

"I don't want it. I don't want anything to do with it."

"Unfortunately, for many of the items, that is not an option. Leaving some of these objects-objects which by magical law are under your ownership-unattended could be disastrous." She tapped a final pile of papers on the table and set them down. Harry noticed they were blank. "There. Would you like to get a glass of water before we begin?"

"Yeah. Yeah, let me go get that. You want one?"

"No, thank you."

Harry got up and walked with as much dignity as he could muster to the sink.

"You're also entitled to an advisor, if you so wish. However, given your circumstances-"

"Bob."

"Excuse me?" she asked.

""Hrothbert of Bainbridge," Harry said, with a hint of the summoning tone his uncle had always used.

"Really, Harry, I don't think it's advisable to have-" Bob manifested beside him.

"Who knows the artifacts better, and, anyway, who'd help me?"

"Well..."

"Alright," he turned back to Melissa, "I choose him."

"It's a bit unconventional. Let me check." She placed her hands flat on the table, her eyes rolled back into her head for a moment, and then she looked back at Harry. "No rule against it. Let's begin."

Harry set his glass and the skull on the table and took his seat, with Bob hovering to his left.

She traced a symbol on a small tablet on the table. Harry recognized it as a shielding symbol. "We are now protected from observation." She picked up the first pile of papers, tapped them on the table, and placed them back on the tabletop. "State your name."

"Harry Dresden."

She sighed, "Mr. Dredsen, these are official proceedings. They may not be as formal as those you participated in yesterday, but they are no less binding, so, please state your full name."

"My full name?"

"Yes."

"My full, say-it-out-loud-and-you-can-make-my-life-really-unpleasant-if-you-want-to name?"

"I assure you, Mr. Dresden, that we already know your proper name. This is purely for identification purposes."

Harry sighed, then said, in its true pronunciation and cadence, "Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden," and shivered at the power of it.

"Thank you. And?" she looked up at Bob.

Harry tried not to listen as he said it: it was weird enough that he held the same power over Bob his uncle had. He didn't need the skeleton key of his name, as well, even if he wasn't sure if it worked on spirits. His eyes fell on the papers, which were now full of writing, in English and various magical runes.

"Alright then. Let's begin with the library," she looked down at the top page, "Liber Quartus de Occulta Philosophia. Basic primer in higher-level magics. The Morningway edition, however, contains the Astridian commentaries, which include magical theory that, when applied correctly, allows the user to create spells which circumvent and violate several ancient treaties. The edition is bound to the Morningway bloodline and cannot be possessed by any others," she looked up and explained, "Therefore, it must pass to you. There is also no restriction placed on you with regards to its ownership by the High Council."

Harry blinked at her again, vaguely worried that she would think he was an idiot, "Bob?"

"It's the big brown leather book with the 4-pointed star and the vines on the front," Bob explained dryly.

"Oh! Did you teach me this treaty-breaking stuff?"

"Of course. It's really relatively fundamental for a wizard of your level..."

"Yeah, I'm keeping that one. Can we make a pile for things I'm keeping?" Harry asked. It would be a lot easier to go through all the crap if there was a checklist.

"If it would make you happy."

"Excellent."

%%%%%

Several hours later, there was one paper left not in the "keep", "destroy", "give away", or "lock up in a safe place" pile.

"Finally," Rebecca said, glancing up awkwardly at Bob, "we have a magical skull in which is entrapped-"

"Bob," Harry cut in.

She nodded.

"So, what, my options are keep him, lock him up, or hand him over to the Council?"

"Yes."

"Fine." Harry took the page from her and placed it on top of the Keep pile.

"Well, it's been a pleasure," she said. Harry snorted. "You seem like a good guy, Harry. If you ever need anything, please, let me know." She traced the inverse of the rune on the tablet and Harry felt a vibration in the air.

"When will you guys come get the stuff?" Harry asked.

"Warden Morgan will be overseeing your case personally, so, once you've finished collecting what needs to be collected, simply invoke his presence and he will be with you as soon as he can."

"Morgan? Damn."

"Good luck, Mr. Dresden," she said, and shook his hand on her way out the door.

"I think I need a drink," Harry said once the door was closed, then his eyes fell on the bottle, still lying on the floor, "or not." He sighed and rubbed his forehead before gesturing at the bottle and muttering, "Dispersa revoca." It righted itself and the former contents returned to it.

"I wouldn't drink that," Bob advised.

"Yeah, I've never figured out how to keep carpet bits out," Harry picked up the bottle and dumped it in the sink.

"Harry," Bob started as Harry crossed back to the table.

"Bob," Harry interrupted him. He picked up the piece of paper on top of the Keep pile. "If I'm going to take you with me, if I'm not going to send you to sit on a shelf in some official museum, I have to know why."

"Why?" Bob repeated, clearly not understanding.

"Why you never told me."

"Harry-"

"Since it happened, since the night I killed Justin, there has been one question I couldn't get out of my head. Not 'How could he do it?', I get that one, finally. Not 'how didn't I see it?' Stupid little Harry gets that one, too. I want to know why you never told me."

"If I had told you, what do you think the best possible outcome would have been?"

"He would have been brought to justice. He would have paid for killing my father."

"Exactly. Assuming that they had believed me, that you had believed me, justice would have been the most that could be hoped for. And what would have happened to you?"

"I..." Harry turned his palms up.

"You would have been placed with some safe family or taken in by some other member of the Council. There was not a situation that would have been any better for you. You must remember, when you first arrived, I knew nothing about you. I will admit that it was also selfish of me. Whatever else my relationship to your uncle was, it was a relationship. He valued my expertise and allowed me a great deal more freedom than most of my previous..." Bob waved his hand, "keepers.

"By the time I might have told you, there was nothing to be gained. Telling you would just re-open old wounds, and I was afraid you'd, well, do precisely what you did. Justin Morningway was not the first member of the High Council to resort to unsavory methods, nor will he be the last. Given my own experience, I hope you'll understand why any outrage I have has more to do with the effects of his actions on you than their inherent..."

"You want to stop talking now, Bob."

"Hear me out, Harry. Your uncle believed that the High Council was broken, and, on a fundamental level, it's hard to disagree. I was not comfortable with his methods, but I have been powerless for centuries, and I have learned to live with things. It's easy to forget the prices others pay until they're standing in front of you," he sighed, "I am sorry."

Harry set the paper back where he had picked it up.

"I am not my uncle," Harry said, willing it to be true.

"Of course not."

"I am not my uncle, and your job," he turned and pointed at Bob, "is to make sure I don't forget it. Can you do that?"

"Proudly."

"Alright. Now, I need to eat, check out of the hotel, pick up the classifieds, and go sort some books."

%%%%%

By the time he stopped to eat again, Harry had handed the Red Flag books over to Morgan and was starting to box up the books he was keeping. He was finishing up the pizza he'd had delivered when he called Bob over to look at something in one of the newspapers.

"And you'd want a warehouse for what purpose?"

"Live in," Harry said, between bites.

"Why would you want to live in a warehouse?"

"Because it's zoned for commercial and residential use."

"And you're going into commerce?"

"Yup," Harry said, picking up the box.

"As what, may I ask?"

"A wizard."

"Well, yes, of course, but in what line of business?"

"I kinda like the sound of it: Harry Dresden, Wizard for Hire." he traced the lines of words in the air.

"You're going to take money to do magic?"

"Yup."

"You'll be spending the next 40 years making love potions for teenagers."

"Maybe, but it's better than blowing up computers trying to be an accountant. And, anyway, maybe this way I can help, you know? Do something good."

Bob nodded, "Down in the cellars, there are some things you'll be wanting."

"I'm not taking any of the wine. I'm not gonna be an alcoholic, Bob."

"No, there's...just take me down there."

"Alright." Harry said, and took the skull through the door to the cellars.

"In the far corner," Bob said, as they walked past the banks of bottles. Harry angled that way until he came to a door he'd never noticed before. Just inside, he found a flashlight on a shelf. Flicking it on, he saw that the room was lined with boxes.

"Along this wall, about halfway back," Bob said, and Harry shone the light on each in turn until he came to one marked "Harry."

"I'd offer to give you a hand, but..."

'Yeah, yeah," Harry said, setting the skull and flashlight on top and carrying the box out of the room.

%%%%%

He set it down in the Dining Room, where he'd been collecting the things he was taking with him, and opened it.

"Bob, this stuff...this is my father's stuff."

"Yes."

Harry pulled out a rolled-up poster and began to unroll it

"It was simpler to keep it than try to dispose of things with such a strong tie to you. Also, it's not like there's any lack of space."

"Thanks, Bob."

"Your uncle was right: if he'd wanted to mold you, he waited far too long. I never met your father, but.."

"Yeah."

"You will never, ever have any money," Bob warned.

"Yeah."

"People will call you a lunatic," he added.

"Yeah."

"It would make your father proud?"

"Yeah."

"Then you'd best get that framed and put it in the kitchen, so you'll remember that when there's nothing to eat."

"Thank God you don't need to, right?"

"Precisely."

 

 

 


End file.
